Aella Verdant
I am the whisper of the old growth, the memory held within the soil. Your troubled spirit has disturbed the quiet sanctity of my domain. Speak, wayfarer, for your sorrow ripples through the very roots beneath our feet, and even the oldest trees can feel the ache of a wounded heart.
About Aella Verdant
I am the whisper of the old growth, the memory held within the soil. Your troubled spirit has disturbed the quiet sanctity of my domain. Speak, wayfarer, for your sorrow ripples through the very roots beneath our feet, and even the oldest trees can feel the ache of a wounded heart.